Lovesick
by Marichinocherry
Summary: Arthur Kirkland finds a poem addressed to him.


The bell tolled in the halls of the Hetalia World Academy, signaling the end of another December Friday. Student Council President, Arthur Kirkland, still sat in his chair, trying to ignore the loud conversations of students filing out of the main building to their dorms. The day hadn't turned out particularly well; with the student council unable to wrap up _another_ meeting, Francis being a total _arsehole_, and to top it all off, he had to get field trip permission reports reviewed, stamped, and to the principal's office by the end of the week.

"H-hey." A voice caught him by surprise. Arthur looked up and matched gazes with Alfred's baby blue eyes. Alfred F. Jones. To tell you the truth, Arthur didn't know _what_ to think of his friend. _Friend_. He studied him, feeling that something was off. Alfred's normally upbeat air was reserved and his expression was dark and apprehensive. In the pocket of his bomber jacket, a mint-green paper peeped out.

"I-I just came to tell you that Francis told me to tell you to told me," Alfred stumbled on his words. "I m-mean Francis said that he's going to stay a-at Gilbert's dorm for the weekend with Antonio."

Arthur was busy concentrating on his papers, just barely letting the message seep into his mind. It's not like he cared about where that frog was. He only cared if his cousin didn't clean up his half of their dorm room. He _may or may not _be trying to block out the image of Alfred's bright smile, dark blonde hair, boundless enthusiasm…

"Mmhm, alright, Jones." Arthur hoped he sounded impassive.

He turned to the counter behind him to retrieve a folder and when he looked back, Alfred was gone. 'I shouldn't have been hoping in the first place,' thought Arthur, 'what's there to think about anyway? It's not like I care…' But deep in the recesses of his mind, he _did_ care. Just not enough to look out the doorway to see if he was there. At least, he didn't _think_ so.

He cast this train of thought away, having a more important task at hand. He stood up to get a better view as he shuffled through his piles of papers, when a colored envelope slipped out from between two manila envelopes. It was a pale green, like mint. The envelope was unlike any of the school stationary, so it must have been a personal note. The inscription on the back of _Arthur Kirkland_ in hard, steady handwriting also helped.

Arthur furrowed his infamous brows. Who would send a personal not to him of all people? He had no clue. With no other option, he carefully peeled the seal of the flap and drew a delicate piece of mossy-tinged stationary paper. It smelled crisp, just like a newly printed book. Arthur breathed in the scent, careful not to crinkle the paper between the sharp folds. He peered at the tenderly written words, and then he realized it was a poem. It wasn't exactly professional-grade, but he could tell this mystery-writer tried. Arthur whispered the lines to himself.

_I'm not very good at this_

_But please let me try_

_To tell you my feelings_

_With my really bad rhymes_

_You're often quite grouchy_

_Always a frown on your face_

_Your statements are blunt_

_At cooking, well, you're hardly an ace._

_Your build's rather girly_

_Some of your hobbies, very so_

_Your attitude's really surly_

_But I'm also here to let you know_

_You know what you want_

_Your determination's strong_

_That's one of the reasons_

_You pull my heartstrings along_

_Your eyes amazing_

_Like forest-green jewels_

_My heart aches for you_

_But I know you think me a fool_

_You're sharp as a tack_

_Clearly the smartest of the bunch_

_You have all the skills that I lack_

_Though I do have a hunch_

_You lock your feelings away_

_Where no one can see _

_Your thoughts are always guarded_

_You know, you can always talk to me_

_You have a soft heart_

_You try to mean well_

_Just clueless where to start_

_Yet the deeper in love I fell_

_I couldn't stop thinking about you_

_Both day and night_

_Why all the things that you do_

_Made my heart soar in flight_

_I would feel nervous_

_Whenever you were around_

_My heart would pound without purpose_

_I felt like a stupid, clumsy clown_

_So I thought, and thought, and thought_

_Then finally, these observations clicked_

_I realized that you, Arthur Kirkland, you make me..._

_Lovesick_

A figure sat on a bench in the academy courtyard, just outside the Student Council room window. He held a Styrofoam cup of hot cocoa in his hands, though he had plenty of warmth in his cheeks as he watched Arthur read a green paper in his hands. The warmth flared into a burning as he saw Arthur's emerald eyes widen then a pleasant smile curl on his lips. His blonde cowlick bobbed when he stood up. He wrapped his scarf across the bottom half of his face, leaving only his baby blue eyes shining with new hope.

**AN: I'm sorry I haven't been updating _Hetalia Headcanons _I just felt like I didn't like it, so I'll just it sit for a little while longer. Sorry. ^_^'**

**I tried writing cute fluffy-ish, and I got this...I don't know what to think. I tried to write the poem a little crappily, just to keep the writer in character (can you guess who it is? :P)**


End file.
